Take What You Can
by Leni
Summary: Faith/Spike. Sorta. What if Buffy had never died in 'Prophecy Girl? What if Faith came to Sunnydale years later, as another Potential?


**DISCLAIMER:** I can twist, but the Jossverse will always belong to... well, isn't it obvious?  
**RATING:** R, for language!  
**WORDCOUNT:** 3194  
**SUMMARY:** Faith/Spike. Sorta. What if Buffy had never died in 'Prophecy Girl'? What if Faith came to Sunnydale years later, as another Potential?  
**FEEDBACK:** It's the Christmas Season, people!

_Written for **tragicamente**, at the Christmas Requests._

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**TAKE WHAT YOU CAN  
**_by Leni_

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**I.**

The first time Spike saw her, she was rushing at him, stake in hand and a furious snarl twisting her lips. One instant, and he'd known she'd be trouble.

Ten seconds, two broken plates and a gasp for breath later, Buffy finally made her entrance. "What the…"

"He's a vampire," the girl yelled, still thrashing in his grasp.

Spike gave her points for sheer doggedness; the hand he was keeping around her throat wasn't light by any means. He raised an eyebrow at the blonde. "See? This is what happens when you don't lead the welcome wagon."

Buffy just gave him a glare. "Let her go."

"Not until the darling here loses the stake." Indeed, the brunette still held onto the piece of wood for dear life. Good thinking, bad moment to apply it. "I plan to see this Apocalypse to its end, Slayer, and not from the dustbin." The conversation seemed to confuse the girl, enough so that…. "Never mind," Spike smirked, and released her throat to aim for her wrist instead. A dull sound, a suppressed yelp, and the stake clattered to the floor. "All yours," and taking the newcomer by the shoulders, he pushed her toward Buffy.

The girl took a second to recover her balance and whirl around in a fighting stance.

"Aw." Spike laughed. "Isn't she cute." The girl's body was a second away from charging him again. Spike sat on the kitchen stool, regarding her with obvious amusement. "Can I keep her?" Indeed, she flew toward him. This time their fight didn't break anything before he had her in the same hold. "On the other hand, she keeps telegraphing her next move and she won't be any fun. Especially when she gets herself dead."

"I'm sure you'll help her," Buffy said dryly. "It's somewhere in the definition of being a good guy."

The girl looked between them in surprise. So much surprise that she actually stopped struggling.

"Great. Did you have to tell her now?" Spike berated the blonde at the door. "I was starting to like it. Been too long since someone tried to kill me without an agenda in their hands."

An eye roll. "Just leave her alone, Spike. And you," Buffy shifted her focus to the girl. "Stop giving him reason to kill you before the enemy has tried."

"She needs to work on her pep talk," Spike pretended to confide in his prisoner, whisper against her ear and all. "Time was, she could pep with the best of them. Now it's all 'go and get killed'." A sad shake of his head, and he ignored Buffy's seething look. "Well, little one. You heard big sis, off with you!" He released her again, sending her some wobbly steps away from him.

This time the girl looked between the both of them, looking angrier rather than confused and annoyed rather than anything else. "The fuck I'm staying here," she told them clearly, keeping them both in her sight as she advanced towards the kitchen door and finally pushed past Buffy.

Once the brunette was gone, Spike lifted the corner of his lips. "She really thinks she's got a choice."

Buffy shrugged, not amused at all. "Didn't we all?"

Spike barked a laugh, and at her look chose to call it a night. "Keep telling yourself that, Slayer."

.

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**II.**

"We're not going to survive this, are we?"

It was three weeks later, and he'd learned her name and some of her story in that time. "This is Sunnydale, pet. Stranger things have happened."

She chuckled at that. "So I hear."

He didn't miss how her eyes strayed briefly to the blonde at the lead of their little expedition. So she'd learned some of his story as well. He took a second to wonder how she'd come to that particular bit of knowledge; Buffy wasn't exactly the sharing type. Then he remembered, "Wood still in your good graces, then?" He'd been in Buffy's good graces once, and he seemed the type the Slayer would trust. And the type who'd share with his next lover.

Chez Summers was your regular soap opera nearing its climax. Hellmouth style.

The brunette shrugged. "He's okay." Spike may be male, but he'd been around for a couple extra centuries. This 'okay' reeked of female-speak for 'not what I was expecting.' He wasn't surprised. Rumor said that their most troublesome Potential was fond of taking her pick at the Bronze and spending the night in un-slayerly business. Girl wasn't anywhere close to settling down, and Robin Wood was as settled as they came.

They had arrived at the high school. Speeches were thankfully left aside, and it was time to go their separate ways.

"You really think it'll do something?" The girl tapped the medallion with a skeptic look.

Spike weighed the piece of metal in his hand, shrugged. "Big fashion statement, if nothing else."

She grinned. "See you in hell, then!" she said as she started running to where her fellow Potentials had gathered.

"Hey, Faith!"

There was surprise in her eyes when she turned around. Spike realized he'd learned her name weeks ago, but never bothered to use it until now. "Betcha a JD that I save the world tonight." He could feel several heads whirling around at his words, all gaping at his attitude right before their hardest battle. Spike didn't care.

Apparently, Faith didn't care either. "Add a carton of Marlboro and you're on," she yelled back. Then rushed to join the other girls.

"What are you really hoping for?" Buffy asked once he'd reached her.

He didn't need to ask what she was talking about. He'd felt her eyes drilling into his back during his whole exchange with the brunette. Did he say soap opera? Now he was raising it to Shakespearean play, and not the comedy ones. He and Buffy… well, it would always be complicated. "For real?" He didn't wait to hear her answer, and she didn't even nod. If nothing else, blunt honesty had been the best friend of their attempts at a relationship - and its ultimate executioner, too. "That I'll be buying her a drink tonight."

"Happy endings and saviors don't mix well," she agreed.

He was tempted to put his arm around her shoulders, so he did it. "Sorry, luv."

When she didn't shrug away from his touch, he removed his arm himself.

See? Complicated.

"Let's kick some ass, Slayer."

A ghost of a grin answered him. "We make our own endings, right?"

He nodded resolutely. Because if she could pretend, then so could he.

.

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**III.**

He wasn't surprised to see her in his apartment, in his couch, with a bottle of the best wine he'd stolen from Angel in her hand.

"So, you guys snapped a picture of Death with her knickers down? That why you keep popping back all over the place?"

He closed the door with his elbow, still wary of using his hands unless he really needed to. "Not sure I'd have come back if your baby sister had kept at it."

For once, something like commiseration crossed her expression. It was a very brief experience, though. "Hey, you wanna blame somebody for Dana, take it to the mistress. She pulled off the big mojo - and tell her thanks from me, while you're at it."

He had exactly a quarter of a second to process her words, before she was rushing at him again. This time it took ninety-two seconds, two broken lamps and a chair that would never be the same again. "You crazy?" he roared as he slammed her against the ground, making sure to keep his knees digging into her kidneys.

"Damn." She laughed. "I really thought I'd get you this time."

Spike took one look at her, and everything fell into place. Damn Slayers. Could never leave a vampire in peace. "You got better at hiding your reactions," he told her even as he brusquely released her hair; her head made a blunt sound against the carpet.

"I wanted to live," she answered simply as she came to her feet, one hand at her temple, massaging it. "When the enemy tells your weakness, you do your damnest to get rid of it."

He chuckled. "That might be the most sensible thing I've heard you say."

She grinned back. "Isn't it?" She walked to the couch and plopped back onto it. "So, aren't you going to ask what I'm doing here?"

"You want a piece of LA action, maybe join Wolfram & Hart, see the beast from the inside and play with the big guns while you're at it," he recited. Then straightened the fallen chair and twirled it around so he could sit astride it. It wobbled, but not enough to discomfort him. "Did I miss something, pet?"

She crossed her legs and reclined back against her seat. She didn't look all that surprised. "That obvious, huh?"

"Darling, you _smell_ bored. And you should've seen yourself when Andrew gave his 'we're the good guys' speech - I've seen Angel more amused in brood-mode."

"That'd be the ex-Summers vamp, right? I mean, the one before you."

Spike cocked an eyebrow. "You sure you wanna follow that line of questioning? I hear the souled vamps are on the wrong camp this season, could probably drain and dump you and the Watchers would just congratulate themselves for being right."

"Same old bastards," Faith agreed. "And I'm not that interested in the mistress' love life, anyway. So, I'm in?"

He raised from the chair, walking toward her slowly. "I'm in a bad mood. Was recently chained, chopped and drugged out of my bits. So, what about you tell me why Rupert sent you, so I can show you the door and go to sleep?"

"Sent me!" She sounded indignant. "You just said I was bored of all that."

"And Rupert, being the good little Council member, would be the first to use that to his own advantage. He promised you more lunch money if you spied on us?"

They stared off. Faith was the first to look away. "Indefinite leave from the Council," she admitted.

"But you love fighting." Now was his turn to be surprised.

"Not on their terms, okay? And I'm not going back anyway. They have enough Slayers to keep the world afloat for a lifetime or two - I'm outta there."

"Still a troublemaker."

"Damn right." She sounded proud of that. "So, can I join the party?"

He thought about it. Wolfram & Hart didn't lack physical prowess, but they couldn't trust any of the tactical teams. They belonged to the firm, body and soul, and when the shit finally hit the fan, they'd be the first to turn on them. Besides, having a Slayer parading herself around the demons at the building would be great fun. He could just picture Harmony's reaction, and Angel's face when he saw her…. Sure, Faithy here wasn't the right Slayer to yank that particular chain; but Spike was willing to take what he could. Only one more thing to clear: "What makes you think you won't be working for the evil guys?"

"Nothing really." Her next words were sure and firm, as if she'd thought over this particular line for days. She probably had. "But it can't be worse than indoctrinating little girls and sending them off to kill or get killed. Or partying in Rome with demon lover number three - oops!" She didn't seem the least apologetic; but when Spike was about to press the issue for more information, her voice turned more serious, "Or going around the world to collect more girls, and not even _thinking_ to spare one person to see if that damn spell can be reverted."

"Thought you liked being a Slayer," Spike retorted, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure," she replied easily, not in the least worried at having been caught in a lie. "But almost dying every other week makes it lose some of its charm, you know?"

Because it wasn't a lie at all. Apparently, loving being a Slayer and hating it at the same time made sense in her head. Though, Spike hated to admit, from her perspective, it kind of did. "You'd still report back to Giles."

"Only what you want me to tell."

Spike smiled. She _had_ thought it over. "Come," he offered her a hand. "Let's get your treacherous little ass to the boss. Can't wait to see his face when you tell him your offer."

She obviously saw his grin at the idea. "You don't really like him, do you?"

He shrugged. "Only on days that end in Y. Make you a deal, you keep your annoying attitude aimed at him, tell him all about the Slayer's Italian lover outside of my hearing, and I'll make sure to teach a couple extra tricks to take _him_ in practice."

"I'd rather take you," she smirked.

Spike saw the smirk and read all the possibilities of it. She hadn't changed since the last time he saw her. Still out to make the most of life, still looking for the next best excitement, the next best distraction to keep her amused between patrols. He briefly wondered how Wood had fared, if he'd survived that last battle at all, and then decided that _he_ wouldn't be Faith's newest toy. Been there, suffered the consequences of that. No, he wasn't going down that road again. "Take what you can, girl."

"I intend to," she whispered wickedly as she walked past him. "I just hope you're better at keeping this deal."

Spike's eyes narrowed, and then narrowed further when the connection was made. "I saved the world that day, princess. If anything, _you_ owe _me_."

"Nuh-uh. A vampire who went to ashes on the spot saved the world, check the Watcher Diaries. They tell the whole truth of the universe. You, mister, don't even exist in a Slayer's mind."

His lips twisted. "That thorough a brainwashing, huh?"

"And worse." She opened the door and, after he'd followed her into the hallway, closed it again. "At least in California, people don't say 'please' and 'thank you' when they don't expect you to survive an Apocalypse."

"Good thing you are not maudlin' or anything," he kept his tone light.

Faith raised an eyebrow. "Just take me to the Wizard, Dorothy."

"And there I was thinking to buy that Jack Daniels on our way back."

She laughed. "No, you weren't."

Spike smiled. Because no, he had been thinking no such thing.

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**IV.**

"We are not going to survive this, are we?"

Déjà vu.

"It's just an army from hell. We did just fine the last time."

She laughed, gripping her broadsword tightly. Her hair was matted to her head, rainwater making it heavier. In the sudden quietness, it made a sound like a whip against her back as she ran beside him. "That means we have a mystic medallion ready to save the day - or, you know, the night?"

"And go up in flames again?" He gave a snort. "Pass."

"Angel could wear it this time."

"He would deserve it," Spike answered without hesitation. "Budget cuts my ass."

"You still mad about that?"

This time he did hesitate. Because yes, those first days - heck, those first _weeks_ - he'd been mad as hell. 'You brought the Slayer, you keep the Slayer,' Angel had said on the sixth morning after Faith's arrival. He'd just been coming out of the sparring room, and he sported one puffy eye beside the obvious limping. 'You two seem to be getting along well enough already.' The big guy had obviously recognized the moves. Inside, Faith hadn't fared much better, laying on the practice mat with two bruised ribs and a smile that cut from ear to ear.

Good girl, he'd thought, paying no attention to Angel's words. He should have.

The next morning, that good girl was dragging her two suitcases into his place and before he could blink, she'd claimed the one bedroom as her own and nothing would budge her. He'd gone to Angel, bitched at Angel, shouted and yelled and threatened. His grandsire had simply steepled his fingers, shook his head sadly and showed him a bunch of papers that meant nothing except that it was Spike's own fault and that revenge was sweet.

A soul didn't change the essentials, and Angelus had always been a revengeful sonuvabitch.

But after those first weeks, he and Faith had found some sort of balance. It probably helped that in between shouting matches as to why she wouldn't sleep on the couch since _she_ was the guest, shouting led to a especially bitter fight, which led to fists and nails and somehow upgraded to lips and teeth and sharing the bed.

Which was for the best because he'd really hated the couch.

That had been a month ago. Too little time for either of them to be bored or permanently annoyed at the other. Outsiders (i.e.: Harmony) may even think they were fond of each other - and his ex had pounded on the fact by throwing an unicorn paperweight at his head and almost knicking out his eye with the long horn in the process. At least the bloodshed had calmed her down, and after that little scene she'd just muttered 'freak' when he passed by her desk.

Switching back to brunettes might be a good idea, he thought. Bottle blondes hadn't been exactly good for him.

"Guess that's a yes," Faith interrupted his musings, voice so quiet he almost didn't catch it.

"It's a no," Spike said confidently. "Just don't tell Angel that; it's the principle of the matter which counts."

She chuckled; but he could tell that she wasn't really amused. He stopped and, looking uncertain, she copied him. The rain was falling hard and time was running out, but the portal still hadn't opened. "Look, you and me? Makes no sense whatsoever, but it's been working." She nodded. "Okay, knowing that, can we save the rest of this conversation for when the world is saved?"

Faith looked around them briefly, at the lonely streets. "When, not if?" The message may not have reached London in time, and even if it had, chances were slim that the Council would send help. They'd probably be happy to watch the two 'enemies' fight between themselves and then deal with the winner. The fact that one of their own was trapped in the crossfire wouldn't make them lift a finger.

"The cavalry is a little late," he said lightly, because he'd learned the hard way that blunt honesty only took you so far.

"More fun for us, right?"

He nodded.

"Bet we win before they arrive."

"One Jack Daniels as always, princess."

"Because it's a matter of principle…" She looked him in the eye for a second, and then started running towards their meeting point. "Right?"

Now Spike could see the top of the Hyperion. His eyes shifted to the alley and the lone figure there. Best case scenario so far, three against a couple thousand. "Got it in one, baby." He grabbed her arm and started running faster. She followed him without a complaint.

They might win.

They might lose.

_Whatever._

The real fun was about to start.

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**The End**  
27/12/08

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